


For Your Health

by presidentwarden



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Arguing, F/F, First Kiss, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5429144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentwarden/pseuds/presidentwarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coin worries about Johanna more than she ought to. For Johanna's part, she'd rather not have anyone worrying about her at all -- but if someone's got to, it might as well be the president. Honestly, it's kind of nice.</p><p>And then Johanna wants to know exactly where they stand... and things get complicated.</p><p>Written for a prompt fill on tumblr ("kiss on the forehead").</p><p>- - -</p><p>Johanna laughs mockingly, moving towards her, hands on her hips. “Is that right? What do you know about my spirit, Madam Prez?”</p><p>“You’re formidable.” Coin primly glances back at the report, scanning the details. It’s just pages of diagnoses and recommendations and doses, the sort of information that Johanna ought to know, and she hands the tablet off to her without hesitation, which Johanna drops on the bed without even looking. Their eyes lock for a second, an angry hazel stare meeting Coin’s warm grey, and she sees it all, Johanna’s bitterness and consuming grief and the rage at her undeserved abuse. She inclines her head, expression softening. “You’ve endured the unbearable.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Health

Long before any of this becomes serious, before war and turmoil and vengeance bring two close together and strike one down, there are hints of what is to come.

Johanna’s voice is flat, tired eyes scanning the infirmary’s pale walls. All she’s seen is a succession of doctors, filing in and out and making notes on their little charts and jabbing her with endless needles. It took several threats of violence for them to finally relent and disappear, retreating to the other room to measure her progress. She endures these weekly check-ins for her own health, but even now, nearly two months after her rescue, they treat her like she’s just as feeble and helpless as the day they snatched her from Capitol captivity. It’s grating.

The door swings open a crack and she doesn’t even look up. “Next person to stick an IV in me is getting a tongue depressor to the face.”

The voice is familiar. “Miss Mason?”

“Oh. Never mind.” Johanna turns her attention to the visitor, a small powerful lady dressed all in grey. Well, everyone in this underground shithole is dressed all in grey, but this one pulls it off with particular style. Reluctantly, she seats herself back on the bed, perched at the edge, one hand grasping a fistful of the sheets. “Come on in.”

“Thank you.” President Coin pushes the door open a little wider and lets herself in, shutting it behind her. Technically, as D13’s foremost authority, she has access to all the facilities, but it’s polite to ask before entering. Particularly for Johanna’s sake. She takes a few steps closer, the click of her footsteps producing a glossy echo on the tiled floor, and clasps her hands, standing calmly with a tablet tucked under her arm. “I see you’re making progress.”

“Yeah? Is that what they think?” Johanna stares up at Coin defiantly, arms crossed, feeling the woman’s eyes on her. For the examination she’s been dressed in a light flimsy hospital gown, and she doesn’t like it one bit. She’s had enough of being stripped bare for others’ inspection. She rises to her feet, picking a pair of neatly folded uniform pants up off a table close by, and tugs them on roughly, ripping off the gown in the process. “Why?”

“According to the report, your vital signs are better, you’re no longer malnourished, and the trauma symptoms are lessening.” Coin shifts her gaze elsewhere, giving Johanna her privacy as she changes into a gray shirt, messily buttoned-up. “According to what I can see, you are regaining your spirit.”

Johanna laughs mockingly, moving towards her, hands on her hips. “Is that right? What do you know about my spirit, Madam Prez?”

“You’re formidable.” Coin primly glances back at the report, scanning the details. It’s just pages of diagnoses and recommendations and doses, the sort of information that Johanna ought to know, and she hands the tablet off to her without hesitation, which Johanna drops on the bed without even looking. Their eyes lock for a second, an angry hazel stare meeting Coin’s warm grey, and she sees it all, Johanna’s bitterness and consuming grief and the rage at her undeserved abuse. She inclines her head, expression softening. “You’ve endured the unbearable.”

“Don’t try to tell me what is and isn’t unbearable!” Johanna’s anger flares, thin hands balled into fists, and then she realizes she is using Coin as a target for her own temper worn thin, and her voice drops, flattening out again. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess that’s what you mean about my spirit.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Coin is unfazed. She reaches out to clasp Johanna’s hands, the comforting gesture she always uses. It has just enough intimacy to show trust without putting her at risk, like how a hug might lead to a knife between the ribs. But the way Coin’s small hands rest over Johanna’s is much less practical, and when one thumb gently caresses the back of Johanna’s hand, feeling the sinews and bones beneath, a corner of the girl’s thin mouth quirks upward, interested.

“You  _like_  my spirit, don’t you?”

Coin is suddenly flustered, and moves to discreetly pull away but Johanna has her wrist in a firm grasp now, keeping their hands together. She lifts her chin, shaking her head to get her long hair out of her face, and looks past Johanna, inspecting a medical chart tacked to the wall. Fascinating. “I like a great many things about you.”

“Even better.” Johanna replies with a sudden grin, reveling in her power to keep the president in the playful captivity of holding hands. If that isn’t what they’re doing, it’s still awfully close. She may as well have her fun. “Like what?”

This is not proper, it’s not diplomatic, it’s not presidential. Coin struggles, her implacable expression twitching a little and threatening to slip into something else. “As I said. A great many things.”

“Yeah, I wanna know what they are. Is it how well I throw axes? Did you get a kick of seeing me curse out the Games at the interview?” Johanna lifts her eyebrows, triumph shining through her face despite her visible exhaustion. “Obviously you must’ve gotten  _that_  broadcast, even here in Panem’s creepy little basement.”

Coin avoids a direct answer, glancing up. “I saw. That was very impressive.”

“Or is it other things?” Johanna steps forward, her height in bare feet just about matching Coin’s in heeled boots, and leans over her a little. “Be honest with me, Alma Coin. What do you see in me? Am I just another useful rebel who’ll be good on camera, and that’s why you’re glad I’m recovering?” She reaches out and cups Coin’s jaw in one hand, noticing that she doesn’t flinch. “Or are there some _feelings_  in here?”

Yet another evasive reply. Coin fidgets. “Why does everyone assume I have no emotion? That’s not the case. It’s possible to do my job effectively and still retain some sort of soul.”

“Getting a little defensive, huh?”

“No!”

“Right. I’ll believe that when I see it.” Johanna’s head tilts to one side, scrutinizing Coin. She’s trying very hard not to admit too much, that’s pretty fucking obvious. So what’s there to admit? Johanna has an idea. It’s not like her own flirting with the president can have gone unnoticed. She’s not a subtle girl. Some part of her just wants to find out for good, for better or worse, but it’s more fun to keep playing this game. “So you don’t just like me for what I’ll say against Snow?”

Coin inhales deeply and lets it out again in a long sigh. “Your willingness to say those things is one of the reasons I like you.”

“Oh, right. Back to the whole spirit thing.” Johanna’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder instead. She wonders how long it’s been since anyone actually got this close to Coin. Probably a while, considering the need for presidential safety. Retroactively, it strikes her as strange that Boggs or some other subordinate isn’t hovering around. Plutarch particularly; he’s a menace. At the beginning it took Johanna a week to get Coin alone without him. Now he’s nowhere in sight. “I guess that answers that.”

Coin is instantly wary, grey eyes widening. Her teeth worry at her lower lip. “What answers what?”

“Why you like me. Because I’ll say what you want the country to hear. Isn’t it?”

“No!” And Coin’s immediate defiance of this suggestion brings raised eyebrows from Johanna, who patiently waits for her to spill her guts. It doesn’t take long. “I can’t quantify why I like you, or how, but I assure you, it does extend far beyond your value to the cause.” Some moments of self-doubt, anxiety gripping her like a vise. “...you do know none of this is wise.”

 _“I’m_ not wise.” Johanna licks her lips. They’re getting closer. “But you know what? I’ve been waiting to hear you say all that since we met.” Come to think of it, this _is_  where they met; Johanna passed out in the hospital bed with doctors working on her IV drips, Coin worriedly standing by with a tablet in hand and a great deal of patience. When Johanna came to, fluttering in and out of consciousness, Coin was the subject of a lot of daydreams. Now those are real, or close to it. “Finally, a president I actually want in my life! I like this.”

All at once it is too much for Coin to process. She takes a step back, and Johanna follows, relentless, not breaking eye contact. When Coin opens her mouth to speak, she finds that her voice cracks awkwardly, and Johanna stifles a laugh. This earns her a glare from the small lady. “I do think you’re being a bit forward.”

“Being a bit forward is how I got everything I’ve ever wanted.” Johanna hovers closer, suddenly aware of her heart pounding in her chest. Good thing she hasn’t got those monitors hooked up to her right now. This is all spiraling out of control in a good way. On some odd level, she feels she’s stepped outside a boundary, which is weird, because Johanna Mason obeys no boundaries. “Guess what, I’m going to be even more forward. I like you a whole fucking lot. War is hell, and I don’t want to spend it rotting away inside this dungeon without good company.” A sardonic smile crosses her face. “I know the war needs you, but let me be selfish for a minute. I want your time, I want your attention, and I want to make you acknowledge everything that’s been left unsaid between us for the last two months.”

“All right.” Coin squares her shoulders, looking Johanna in the eye. She remembers it all. Of course they both do. Lingering too long to talk in the conference rooms after meetings, reassuring touches brushing against each other in weak moments, compliments. So many compliments, always said with a hint of pining. Coin owes it to both of them to acknowledge it. Actually, she probably should’ve come to terms with it before now, considering how often Johanna’s told her she’s gorgeous.

She swallows hard, steadying her voice. “What do you propose we do about it?”

“I’ve got an idea.” Johanna gives a short laugh, then places both hands on Coin’s slim shoulders, the gray fabric of her blazer soft beneath calloused fingertips. She moves towards her, closing in, and her soft lips touch Coin’s forehead, just a brush of a kiss against skin.

She pulls away, and Coin gazes at her, dumbstruck. No reprimand, no criticism, no comment. Just a very soft “Oh.”

Johanna smiles.

“Now let me try.” Coin’s composure is back within seconds, a surge of initiative floods through her, and for once it’s Johanna who’s caught off guard as small hands settle on her waist and she’s drawn into a kiss. It’s an awkward, clumsy, but heartfelt attempt, clearly done by someone who has very little idea about proper kissing, which is just about what Johanna expected from her. She lets Coin try and then takes charge, arms around her shoulders, guiding her through the kiss until Coin’s self-consciousness returns and she jerks away, gasping for breath. That’s enough for now.

“Good job.” Johanna’s heart is stuck at a fast-paced throb buried deep in her chest, though to look at her and see her triumphant grin, no one would know it. Coin is wiping her mouth discreetly, red in the face, her straight hair getting a bit wavy from the humidity and heat of the infirmary. She looks like much more of a frazzled mess than when she walked in. Johanna likes it that way.

Coin clears her throat, a futile attempt to restore the peace. “...what now?”

“Not used to someone else being in charge, huh? That’s okay.” Johanna checks her communicuff. “You have any meetings you need to be at?”

“Sometime this afternoon I need to speak with the agriculture director, and then later on--” The cue sinks in, slightly delayed. “Of course. No, nothing that I can’t postpone.”

“Then I suggest you and I get out of this hospital and into someplace more comfortable. Meeting room, maybe. I have a whole bunch of propo ideas.”

Coin inspects her with a trace of doubt. “Do you now.”

Johanna gestures towards the door, wearing a satisfied grin. “Only one way to find out.”


End file.
